My name means hope
by Laikwalasse
Summary: On an ordinary day Aragorn's world crumbles and he notices that luck is fragile and can vanish from one minute to the other…..
1. Chapter 1

My name means hope

Disclaimer:

The characters, places, and events are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit was or will be made from this story. It was written solely for entertainment.

Author's note:

As always many thanks to my beta reader Erulisse.

Summary:

On an ordinary day Aragorn's world crumbles and he notices that luck is fragile and can vanish from one minute to the other…..

Rating: PG-13

Chapter 1: dark times

Aragorn looked up at the knock on his study door. A side-glance at Faramir and a shrug of his friend's shoulders told him that it was not a scheduled date he had forgotten.

With a sigh he rose. "Enter," he called. His irritation over the interruption coloured his voice.

Faramir raised an eyebrow. It was well past the hour the King had promised to meet with his wife for dinner. However, it seemed that this morning the whole population of Minas Tirith seemed to have decided to seek him out or ask for his advice. If these interruptions did not cease he would be unable to leave his office.

Throlan, his royal herald opened the door in his ever awkward attitude. Aragorn fought the urge to roll his eyes. How he disliked this man. He almost felt it would be unsafe to turn his back on him.

"Yes?" he asked quickly before Throlan could recite his stilted introduction. Faramir quickly lowered his head to hide his smile. His amusement however vanished instantly when he heard the herald's next words.

"My Lord King. The Queen has sent me to inform you that your son had a bad accident. She requests your presence at the House of Healing immediately!"

Faramir directed a shocked gaze at his friend. Aragorn had already reached out to grab his cloak and was hastening out of the room. Faramir quickly shuffled his papers into a pile and followed the King.

At the pathway connecting the palace with the House of Healing Faramir managed to catch up with his friend. Knowing that any platitude would meet deaf ears Faramir refrained from saying anything. He only made sure that Aragorn had recognized him. He wanted to make sure his friend would not face this alone. Aragorn acknowledged this with a thankful nod.

No sooner had Aragorn opened the great double doors leading into the House of Healing than Arwen came flying down the great staircase, her loosened hair and silken gown billowing behind her.

"Estel, thank goodness you are here," she cried, not realizing that she had spoken in Sindarin.

As soon as she reached her husband she grabbed hold of his hand, then she greeted the Steward. "Faramir," she nodded slightly, acknowledging his presence. She returned her attention to Aragorn.

"Arwen what happened?" the King asked with much mastered calmness. He had clearly seen the fright in his wife's eyes.

"I do not know. I was just informed a few minutes before I called for you. Eladrion was playing with his friends behind the citadel and….." Arwen stopped when she looked at the darkening face of her husband.

Faramir swallowed. Just a few days prior he had been invited for dinner with the royal family when he had witnessed an argument between ten year old Eldarion and his father. The King had clearly declared that he did not want his son or any of his friends to play behind the citadel.

The great tower was undergoing renovation. A huge scaffold now surrounded the tower giving the workers better access to the upper portions of masonry. The scaffold had an unanticipated by-product. It had become a welcome playground for the children of the city, yet a very dangerous one. Aragorn had strictly forbidden his son to go there.

Faramir lightly touched the man's arm when he saw Master Healer Tarostar coming down a corridor. The Master had obviously been searching for them.

Aragorn squeezed the hand of his wife and directed his gaze at the arriving healer.

"My Lord King, my Lady, I'm glad you could come this quickly. Please follow me to my office."

Aragorn held up his hand. "Master Tarostar, I was informed that my son was injured and my presence was required. What happened and how is he? I want to see him."

Tarostar looked first at the Queen and then turned toward the King. He was not the chief of Minas Tirith's famous healers for nothing.

"My Lord and Lady, I understand your anxiousness, yet there is something I have to tell you beforehand. Privately."

Aragorn swallowed. What could be this important that the healer had to tell him before he saw his son? His gut clenched and his imagination began playing horrible pictures in his mind.

"I will take my leave and gather what news I can," Faramir announced. Aragorn nodded gratefully.

"Thank you, Faramir. I will let you know whatever I can as soon as possible."

While the Steward was leaving the healer gestured for the royal couple to follow him.

Aragorn looked briefly at Arwen. Taking a deep breath, he grasped her hand firmly as they followed the healer into a spacious office their anxiety growing with every minute.

"My Lord, my Lady," Tarostar said as he turned around to face the royal couple. An aide had quickly closed the door behind the three of them. The healer felt that he had not one minute more to spare.

"Your son was brought here with a serious head injury not half-an-hour ago. I was informed that he took a fall from a great height. I'm sorry to tell you that …" Tarostar took a quick glance toward the Queen, uncertain if he should continue.

Arwen recognized the unspoken question in his gaze immediately and stood tall.

"Master Tarostar, my father Lord Elrond was the greatest of all healers in Middle Earth and I have been his apprentice for more years than you can count. Believe me, I have seen wounds more grievous than you can ever imagine. Would you please be so kind as to continue and finally tell us how our son fares?"

Tarostar swallowed at the icy and demanding tone, and Aragorn was again reminded that his fair wife was a true daughter of Elrond Half-elven and a granddaughter of the Lady Galadriel.

"I beg your pardon, my Lady. Your son's injury is very severe. His skull was cracked and he has suffered a massive brain haemorrhage. He has lapsed into a coma."

Aragorn looked at the Master-healer in shock while Arwen quickly quashed a faint cry of blank horror. Unconsciously Aragorn tightened his hold around his wife's shoulders. His head begun to swim. He knew this kind of injury from the battlefield, and often the result was either death or a severe trauma. But even worse was the fact that so little could be done for the afflicted.

"We want to see him," Aragorn announced with a hoarse voice. Arwen only nodded. Master Tarostar took a deep breath and motioned for his guests to follow him out a side portal. He had expected nothing less and had left orders to prepare all.

While climbing up the stairs to the upper part of the clinic Aragorn's thoughts were running wild. How badly was his son injured? Would he die or be forever disabled from his injuries?

He forced himself to stop. He had not even seen the boy with his own eyes and had not tried his healing hands on him. Maybe the injuries were not as bad as he had imagined.

He glanced at Arwen. Her beautiful face was chalk-white, her lips set into a thin line. She was fighting hard to not shed the tears that were barely held in check. Only his firm grip on her cold hand kept her from running ahead of them.

As they rounded a corner, the healer motioned toward a closed door and stepped aside. Aragorn took another deep breath before he moved forward. Only now he realized that the corridor was deserted. He had seen not one healer or even a nurse.

Every other time he had visited the House of Healing, or any other official institution within the town in fact, he was always immediately surrounded. Tarostar had done a good job to shield them from annoying looks and questions.

Opening the door the royal couple stepped into the room. Tarostar also entered yet he remained beside the entrance giving the parents some space for privacy.

Now there was no restraint for Arwen any longer. She yanked her hand free and run to her son's side. Giving no thought to her long cream-coloured gown, she knelt beside the bed and took the motionless hand of her son into hers.

"Eladarion, Nana and Ada are here, do you hear me?" Again she had spoken in Sindarin.

Aragorn had rounded the bed on the other side and sat on the mattress. Eldarion was quite tall for his age, yet within the large pristine bed, he looked forlorn and much younger then he really was.

He let his gaze wander critically over his son's body but apart from a light bandage around his left wrist he could detect nothing worrisome, yet his gaze was immediately drawn to the thick bandage around the boy's head. Even if the dressing covered whatever injury there might be Aragorn immediately saw the signs that attested that Tarostar had not exaggerated when he had told them that his son was hanging by a thread.

Eldarion´s face was even whiter than the immaculate sheets. What contrasted starkly, however, were the child's swollen eyelids. Lifting one, Aragorn saw that his son's eyes were heavily bloodshot and not reacting to the light in the room. Aragorn had many times seen the effects of severe head trauma. He swallowed and lost the fight against his emotions. Like Arwen, sitting opposite him, tears ran down his face. The healer standing in the background was forgotten.

Then his rational mind demanded attention and with a determined swipe of his sleeve, he wiped off his tears. He extended both hands, placing the palms over his son's chest.

Arwen quickly added her hands to those of her husband. Unconsciously Aragorn now realized there were bruises all over the boy's body. Elf and man closed their eyes and while Aragorn remained silent Arwen begun to chant in a foreign language. Tarostar, who understood Sindarin quite well, was sure he had never heard this language before. The chant changed slowly into a haunting and slowly lightening melody which took even the older healer into its aura.

Later, Tarostar could never say how much time had gone by, but from one moment to the other he shook his head, feeling as if he was waking from a very deep sleep. As the Master Healer, he had seen the King in his healing trance many times and had seen the healing hands of the King work miracles, yet never had he been so pulled into whatever healing the King and Queen were attempting here.

Curious, he moved closer when the couple was stirring. Tarostar looked at the boy with narrowed eyes, yet he could detect no change. The boy's body was as motionless as before, his face pale and the horrible head injury still present.

Tarostar chided himself silently. What had he expected - that the boy would stand up and all would be well? He had immense respect for the abilities of the elves, and the healing hands of the King were potent beyond doubt, yet in this case it seemed that they needed more than this to restore the boy to his former health.

Even if Tarostar still harboured hope that a miracle would happen, the next words of the King quenched any spark of hope he had held, immediately.

"He will die and I'm unable to do anything against it."

The keening cry of the Queen rang in his ears and he knew it would haunt him for years.

To be continued…..


	2. Chapter 2

My name means hope

Chapter 2: long days and even longer nights

Aragorn looked out the window of his office grateful that he was currently alone. As much as he appreciated the sympathy and encouraging words spoken by family, friends, the staff, or even people unknown to him, he had to fight the urge to hide and shut out the outside world.

Today he had even wished that he did not have to reassure Arwen that there might still be hope once again, because his heart was as anguished as hers was, and he needed reassurance as badly as she did. Yet he was too much realist and a healer with both professions pushing aside the worried father. He knew that his son's state of health was bad; in fact, it was more than bad and still worsening.

The whole night first night they had sat on Eldarion´s bed, hoping, wishing and even praying that he would wake up so that they could at least assess his injuries. Healers had come and gone monitoring the child's vital functions, but apart from that, they were as helpless as he felt. Many times through the night, he had placed his healing hands on his son's body, over the heart and even around his thickly bandaged head. Yet nothing had changed. Arwen´s songs and chants had also died away as she recognized her efforts were futile.

In the morning, Aragorn had a fierce but short argument with his wife. He had calmly but clearly stated that he had a Kingdom to rule and that the world would not stop in the face of their personal tragedy. Arwen had relented at last, but demanded that he return soon. He snorted; as if this was not his own feverish wish too?

He had issued a few orders, signed a few documents and quickly asked what had turned up. Faramir had started working early in the morning and, as always, had done an excellent job, yet his authority as the steward could not replace the king in all matters. Aragorn had just set his signature on a document and had grabbed his cloak to return to the House of Healing when a thought struck him. Should he inform anyone else? Maybe some of his friends living outside the town, Legolas, or the Twins? He felt he would appreciate his long time friend at his side now, knowing that Legolas would not get lost in all the emotions and would give real sympathy. But it probably was too early to alert anyone….

He was still wrapped up in this train of thought when a knock sounded on his study door. Aragorn whirled around. He had given clear orders not to be disturbed, apart from Arwen calling for him or some news from the House of Healing.

With long strides he crossed the room and yanked the door open. Remount an apprentice of Master Tarostar was standing in the corridor startled by his sudden appearance.

"My Lord," he stammered. "Master Tarostar asks for your presence. Your son has awakened."

Aragorn looked aghast at the young healer. Could it be? Yet Tarostar would not inform him if there was any doubt. Mastering his confusion he nodded at the runner.

"Thank you, I will be there shortly."

Not waiting on a response Aragorn hurried back into the room, grabbed the recently signed parchment and his cloak, and left his rooms, closing the door behind him. Stepping up to the guard standing next to the door, Aragorn pressed the parchment into his hand.

"Find Lord Faramir and hand this to him. Tell him that it has to leave the Citadel today." After a nod from the guard, Aragorn turned and hurried out of the palace.

Without considering the irritated looks following him he ran along the stone pathway leading to the House of Healing. Without stopping, he yanked the door open and hastened through the great entrance hall, up the stairs and burst into his son's sickroom.

His gaze was solely focused at his son's face and to his great joy; Eldarion actually had his eyes open. He could not believe it.

Quickly he stepped closer squeezing Arwen´s shoulder while passing. Yet his first close look at Eldarion's eyes told him that something was amiss - gravely amiss. His son's eyes were unfocused, not looking at him or Arwen. His face was blank as if he was not aware of anyone around him. Aragorn narrowed his eyes while he sat on the bed beside his wife. He carefully took hold of his son's hand but even this contact did not bring any change to the boy's face.

"He cannot speak, Estel, and I'm not sure he is even recognizing us," Arwen whispered, her voice nearly faltering. Aragorn swallowed. The initial joy over this development had quickly vanished and made room for a deep fear he had harboured since the bad news had first reached him.

Had his son's brain been damaged in the fall? Aragorn closed his eyes briefly. This would be worse then death. Then he pulled himself together. His son was alive and he had awakened. These were two things he had not been sure of a few hours earlier.

Focusing his attention back on his son's face Aragorn squeezed the small, cold hand with a bit more vigour.

"Eladrion, can you hear me? Nana and Ada are here. Please look at me. We love you."

The boy turned his head just a fraction as if he was listening. The right eye seemed to make some effort to focus but the left remained wide and fixed. Then he opened his mouth and made some effort to speak, yet only inscrutable syllables came out. Exhausted from the futile effort Eldarion closed his eyes and Aragorn was not sure if he was asleep again. Then his son opened his eyes again and turned his head from side-to-side in quick succession, as if trying to focus on something.

Aragorn stood and putting his hands to each side of his son's bandaged head, he gently but firmly stopped the frantic movements. Eldarion briefly stared at him, but again Aragorn was not sure he was recognized. The boy's eyes closed again after uttering more disjointed syllables.

Soon Aragorn saw Eldarion's breathing deepen and become more regular as he slipped into true sleep.

Aragorn looked up when he felt Arwen´s questioning gaze. He circled his arm around her shoulders as she moved closer and placed her head on his shoulder. A small sob escaped her despite her best efforts.

"His brain is damaged, isn't it?" she whispered and Aragorn could clearly hear the fear in her voice. He could barely bring himself to think about such a possibility. If Arwen had been any woman other than the daughter of the greatest healer in Middle Earth, Aragorn would have tried to reassure her that all would turn out well. But he knew how sharp-witted his wife was and how much more experienced a healer she was than he. She would see through such a ruse immediately.

Nodding at the young healer sitting near the bed who nodded in return, Aragorn rose and extended his hand. Arwen grabbed it and followed her husband out of the room. As they left they saw Master Tarostar coming down the corridor towards them. He looked deeply concerned.

"My Lord, my Lady would you please follow me to my office," he said without much ado. Aragorn and Arwen followed him after an affirmative nod, anticipating that the healer would have nothing pleasant to report.

After the door was closed and the royal couple had taken a seat the healer moved around his huge desk and seated himself. Aragorn had the feeling that Tarostar wanted to bring as much space between him and the parents as possible in the small room.

"My Lord, my Lady," he began, "you son's condition has changed over the last few hours as you have just seen. During or after the fall he suffered a severe blow to his head. His brain hit against the skull with great force. Consequently, the brain is swollen. Indeed, in some places it is actually pressing against the bones of his skull."

All colour drained from Arwen´s face while Aragorn pressed his lips into a thin line when the healer stopped talking. Both of them had expected something like this, but anticipating something, vs. hearing the affirmation were two very different things.

"Is this the reason why he cannot focus or speak?" Arwen asked quietly, although she knew the answer already.

Tarostar nodded. "Where the brain is injured or under pressure, vital functions located in this region will be damaged. If there is no release for the increased pressure, those functions can be lost forever," the healer declared.

"Release?" Aragorn asked while narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

Tarostar looked at the King weighing his words carefully.

"The only way to protect the swelling brain from further damage is to widen the space for it."

Arwen sprang up when she realized what the healer was hinting at.

"What limits the brain is the skull. You cannot be telling us to open my son's head to give his brain more room, are you?" she said in a very low tone.

While Aragorn looked aghast at his wife's suggestion, the healer seemed outwardly unmoved.

"That would be the only means to prevent further damage until the brain's swelling goes down. If we give it no further room it will haemorrhage, leading to your son´s death. Should he, against all expectations, survive, then he will be permanently mentally disabled."

Now Aragorn had also sprung up from his chair. He pressed his hands in front of his face, not wanting the healer or his wife to see his devastation. He was shaken to his very core. He had heard enough. The healer was recommending they open the head of his young son? How horrible this was to even contemplate.

He had never heard that anyone had either performed such a procedure or met a patient who had lived to tell about it. Not even Elrond had dared such a surgery, at least that he knew of. Tarostar could not earnestly be suggesting such a step? Aragorn whirled around to look at the healer.

"You are confident in doing such an operation?" he asked unbelievingly.

Now Tarostar lowered his eyes.

"No, my Lord. I have never done anything like this … but maybe with your assistance. We do not have many alternatives left."

Aragorn inhaled heavily.

"I have confidence in your abilities Tarostar and in mine but it's too risky. We may not control the risk of infection and the danger of doing more harm than good is much too great."

Aragorn closed his eyes briefly. "I do not want my son to suffer even more." His voice faltered.

"His fate lies now in the hands of the Valar….."

"I know someone who can do it," Arwen said suddenly.

Aragorn and Tarostar looked at her with irritation. The King inhaled sharply. His wife's jaw was set and her eyes glowed darkly.

In moments like this he was reminded once again that she was of another race, even though she had adopted and adapted to the human race.

"Who?" Aragorn asked while carefully controlling his voice.

"My brothers, of course," she replied looking first at her husband and then at the Master healer. Both men closed their mouths audibly.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

My name means hope

Chapter 3: playing God

After a duel of flashing eyes Aragorn broke the eye contact with his wife and directed his gaze at the healer.

"Master Tarostar would you please excuse us?"

The healer inclined his head and left the room. Aragorn waited until the door was closed.

"Arwen," Aragorn begun and his voice held a warning note. "You know how much I have unlimited confidence in the skills of your brothers and never can any man match their experience, but with all due respect, not even they have ever done such a surgery. The risk of killing our son right away is much too great. I will never agree with such an operation. Apart from all that, they are hundreds of miles away from us and would arrive in two months at the earliest if they left immediately. That's ridiculous."

The Queen had not blinked once while Aragorn was speaking. She looked at her husband with a set face.

"Are you done?" she asked with a clipped tone. "Even under great risk, my brothers would do such a surgery if they saw the tiniest chance to rescue our son and I have to correct you. They are already near the city or have you forgotten, my love, that in three months hence your 95th birthday will be celebrated?"

Aragorn swallowed. With all the strain of the last days he had nearly forgotten about that, even if this was neigh impossible. For the past several weeks the inhabitants of the city, the staff of the palace and of course the people of his near surroundings had only one topic of discussion: his birthday. As much as he hated this fuss about his person, he had no other choice but to play along. Celebrations such as these were also part of the duties of a King. What he had not known was that the twins had planned to attend. He assumed it was probably supposed to be a surprise.

"Elladan and Elrohir will be here for my birthday?" he asked looking at his wife. His brothers usually avoided visiting Minas Tirith, knowing how difficult their visits could be for their sister who was still learning to cope with her life among men.

"It was to be a surprise," Arwen answered for the first time lowering her eyes, her tone had softened considerably. When Aragorn saw the first teardrop sliding down his wife's cheek he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug.

"If there is any chance to rescue Eldarion with this surgery, you should agree. Aragorn please….."

Aragorn did not know what to say. Never had Arwen begged for his permission and he hated to hear her do so now. If there was any chance for his son to be rescued by any operation then he would, of course, approve.

"Ssht," Aragorn said calmingly and instantly he felt how Arwen relaxed against him. She lifted her face and Aragorn placed a gently kiss on her lips.

"When will the Twins arrive? Do they even know what has happened?" He could imagine that Arwen had already found a way to inform her brothers.

"Yesterday I got the message that they are already crossing the plains of Pelennor. They should arrive within the day. I had no chance to inform them beforehand; I dared not without your consent."

Aragorn nodded and he moved away toward the window. As much as he would enjoy seeing his brothers again, he dreaded the events that would unfold when they were informed. Would they risk all or would they decline? Either way his son's life stood on the edge of a knife. He groaned; a massive headache was spreading all over his skull.

When a knock sounded on the door, Aragorn and Arwen turned around. It was Master Tarostar; they had totally forgotten about the healer. After calling out an invitation to enter, Aragorn steeled himself to tell the palace healer how they intended to proceed.

…..

Elladan swallowed the last piece of his dried meat and blinked into the descending sun. He could already see the outline of the great city. His brother was just coming over to him, their horses trailing behind him.

"Rise brother, I want to cross the plains before nightfall," Elrohir called cheerfully while slinging his bags over his mare's back.

Elladan sighed. As much as he looked forward to seeing his sister and Aragorn again, there was a slight feeling of dread that had been plaguing him for the past two days. He had a bad feeling about what was awaiting them at the city. Unwillingly he shook his head. They would surprise their little brother and would finally greet their nephew for the first time. Aragorn had lavished them with pictures drawn by Arwen and uncounted reports about his offspring. The brothers had often laughed aloud at the antics Aragorn described. Eldarion was a real son of Estel it seemed.

Just as Elladan wanted to mount his horse, he heard the high-itched cry of a peregrine falcon. He squinted his eyes at the horizon and saw a black point quickly coming closer. Elrohir had also sighted the bird and was following its flight. Elladan was sure that the bird was seeking them out, but why he assumed this he could not say.

As expected, the bird landed gracefully at the clearing looking at them with his piercing black eyes. Elrohir raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of their father and walked slowly toward the bird. He spoke soothing words and when he had nearly reached the bird he extended his arm. To Elladan´s surprise, the falcon hopped onto the outstretched limb without hesitation.

Elladan blinked. This could be no wild beast. Even if the elves had a high affinity with the animals, a wild bird remained a wild bird. Only a few elves had the ability to call to the birds and interact with them.

When Elladan looked closer, he could see a golden ring around the falcon´s left leg with a tiny roll of parchment attached to it. It came from the palace then, he assumed. Instantly his bad feeling returned. What message was important enough to deliver it such a way? There were only a few people knowing that they even were coming to the city.

Elladan blew out his breath while he carefully neared his kneeling brother. Elrohir was gently caressing the bird's head with his finger to calm it down. The falcon was twisting and turning on his arm not confident enough to settle down.

When the bird had finally stilled Elrohir extended his arm toward his brother and Elladan carefully loosened the ring holding the little scroll around the bird's leg. As soon as the ring was detached the bird flew up and vanished into the sky.

Elladan looked at his brother before he carefully rolled up the tiny parchment. He instantly recognized the flowing handwriting of Arwen.

"_Elladan, Elrohir. I hope you are already near the city. As much as I desire to see you two soon, my heart is troubled. I must ask you to speed up your arrival. Eldarion had a bad accident and was severely wounded with the result that he now lies dying. Only a very dangerous and risky surgery can possibly rescue him but no one here is either willing or able to do it, not even Estel. I hope you two will consider what must be done and find a way to help our son, Arwen."_

Elladan swallowed after he had finished reading aloud. He looked worriedly at his brother and blew out his breath in a hard sigh. What could have possibly happened to their little nephew that not even the renowned healers of Minas Titrth were able to help him?

Also, he could not forget their brother. Aragorn was also an accomplished healer, and no human this side of the sea could match his healing abilities. Even he was unable to rescue his son?

Shaking his head Elladan mounted his horse.

"Let us hurry brother, our time is running short."

Before the older twin could nudge his horse forward, Elrohir placed a restraining hand on his brother's knee.

"Elladan wait. What if we are not able to help? What if we arrive too late?"

Elladan looked at the silvery town at the horizon, glowing in the moonlight.

"We will not get this answered by staying here, right?" he answered while manoeuvring his horse around his brother.

Elrohir swore under his breath as his brother began a fast walk away from their campsite. The joy and anticipation in seeing Arwen and Estel again after so many years had vanished, replaced by deep worry and fear.

…..

Aragorn gently caressed his son's cheek. Eldarion had finally slipped into a deep coma. Aragorn knew that without relieving the pressure on the child's brain, he would die within days. He grimaced as he thought about the necessary surgery. Even if it was successful, which he greatly doubted, Eldarion would presumably never be the same as before. The healer feared permanent damage had already been done.

Then he directed his thoughts toward his arriving brothers. Would they perform the difficult operation or would they decline, citing too great a risk? Would they be angry about being put into such a situation or having to make such a decision?

Aragorn had sent his wife home. Arwen had been totally exhausted. Even with the stamina of an elf she was near a breakdown after having sat with their son for nearly three days and nights without rest.

Arwen also dreaded the reunion with her brothers. As much as she wanted their quick arrival she feared how they would judge the situation. Her initial confidence had greatly suffered over the last hours.

She had finally agreed to leave her son's bedside, no longer able to watch him suffer. Even if Eldarion was comatose, his deteriorating condition was clear to see and Arwen also felt her son's declining health on a more emotional level.

As much as Aragorn was feeling for his son, he could never reach the same emotional connection as elves shared with their children.

Suddenly overwhelmed Aragorn let his tears run free. The boy was his joy and living proof of his love for Arwen. Never had he been trouble. He was an easy-going, lively youngster, anxious to please and the joy of his family and friends. Aragorn had been proud and had made sure that Eldarion received as much love as he could give him, the same way he had received love from Elrond and his own mother throughout his own childhood.

He could not bring himself to believe that this bright spirit should be lost forever. Right now he would grasp at any straw and even consider attempting the surgery himself if only his son could be rescued. But now he also wished for the quick arrival of his brothers. He hoped for their advice, experience and support.

Somehow he hoped that they would take the heavy decision from his shoulders and state whether the operation could be performed or not. How could _he_ decide that? His son would die if he did nothing but he could also die even if the difficult procedure was performed.

He slowly rose and walked toward the window, not really looking out. His surroundings had suddenly lost all colour to his eyes. All seemed grey and shapeless.

He did not know how long he had stood there when he suddenly he felt a presence at his back and whirled around. How could he not have noticed someone approaching?

Faramir placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Do not despair, my friend. Your brothers have arrived. They are already on their way up to the fifth level. I hope that they can help your son."

Aragorn nodded in gratitude. The few sincerely spoken words meant much to him. Faramir was as dear to him as a family member.

"Thank you, Faramir," Aragorn replied brushing the last tears from his face. If Faramir had seen, he wouldn't comment on them.

Aragorn straightened his back. He would not let his brothers see his desolate state even if he knew at the same time that his pretence would not work.

To be continued….


End file.
